


fish for serpents

by sighduck



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Atheism, Biblical References, Depression, F/M, Gen, Grief, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infidelity, M/M, Minor Character Death, Music, Overt Religious Themes, Panic Attack, Racism, Sexual Identity, Stream of Consciousness, Suicidal Thoughts, Unreliable Narrator, terminal illness, time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7136534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sighduck/pseuds/sighduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can God ever let you down?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Biblical and musical references can be found in the endnotes.

 

 

  
Two Saturdays and one Sunday out of the month Finn caught a glimpse of his next-door neighbour. The rest of the time --

'He's probably out dealing,' said Nitsa. Flicking through the channels without really watching. 'Think about it: weird hours, never home except _sometimes_ on the weekend...?'

Nitsa, Finn reflected, was kind of racist. 'If he were a drug dealer, why would he live here?' Not even Finn would've chosen to live near obnoxiously loud uni students - and he was one of them.

'He's got to keep cover.' Nitsa was losing interest in the conversation at about the same rate she was losing layers. 'Obviously.'

'But you've got him figured out, huh,' said Finn. Thinking, three months ago you would've said the same thing about me.

Nitsa grinned, pulled him close. 'Babes: I've got everything figured out.'

 

* * *

 

Sex was like running. That was the only way to describe it. If you threw yourself into it all at once to try to get it over with, you'd feel awful at the end of it. But if you paced yourself, really took time and care, and just-- pushed yourself through, by the end...by the end it wasn't so bad.

 

* * *

 

Three hours of planned reading halved - an hour and a half before Nitsa finally left. 10 minutes to shower - then the midnight shift. One more round of telephone tag with Rey. Two and a half essays. More reading. Catnap stretched too far. Tired. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. Quick jog, morning shift. 5 minutes to shower. Class. Class ran late, late to class. That was due today? I'm sorry, Professor, I'll get it to you this evening - yes, I understand about the 10%. Evening shift. Nitsa and a bag full of food. Not hungry, thank you, I already ate--ok, that's fine, come in. I'm not acting like anything. What are you talking about? I did say thank you. I'm not yelling. I am not yelling! Ok, fine. What-ever. Goodbye. Telephone tag, catnap, coffee, class. Class, evening shift, midnight shift, tired, so tir...

 

* * *

 

Sh...it.

Shit! What time was it? Ok. Only 3. _Only_  3, fuck, he still had to send Arjan his slides before class. Fuck. _Fuck_.

 _Knock_ , _knock_.

What? Who was--

 _Knock_!, _knock_!

\-- _Why was Nitsa here_? Finn didn't want to talk, he didn't want to argue, he didn't want to have sex. He just wanted to sleep.

'I am trying to sleep,' said the man on the other side of the door. Not Nitsa - the next-door neighbour. 'So could you _please_ turn your music down. Huh? You think you could do that for me?'

Finn blinked. He'd left iTunes blaring alphabetical - Arvo Pärt was now Beyoncé. _'Cus I got a cute face and my booty so fat_  while they stood there fucking staring at each other. Still didn't really register.

'Sorry, man.' Mouth suddenly dry. He wished he had his glasses on for some reason. 'I fell asleep.'

'--Sorry to yell,' said the man next-door, in the sudden silence. Finn turned around, not even surprised he'd forgotten to close the door. 'At least it wasn't Rihanna, right?'

 

* * *

 

 _Unapologetic_. _Loud_. _Rated R_. _Talk That Talk_. _A Girl Like Me_. Shuffle. Repeat.

 

* * *

 

Headphones, in front of his door, two days later. Good brand.

'Told you he was a drug dealer,' said Nitsa, yawning, when he half-explained. They were still sort of fighting, so he let it go.

 

* * *

 

In the shower one morning, the man's face came to him. Low-lids, deep bags. His mess of a beard.

His shoulders, sturdy and broad. The darkness of the hair on his chest, peeking up from his shirt.

Standing before Finn as he was now. Watching.

 

* * *

 

Finn started using the headphones intermittently, and so didn't hear the man playing _Desire_ , _III_ , _Horses_. He did hear _Young Americans_ on shuffle, though. At 1 in the morning.

'I'm sorry,' he said, when the man opened the door, 'but you gotta turn that shit down, man. I'm not trying to sleep, but I am trying not to die.'

The man gaped. 'Are you _kidding_. Really? You don't like Bowie?'

'Look, I don't know who or what that is,' said Finn, 'but it sounds like Bowie doesn't even like Bowie.'

Of course, that was when Win started.

Finn blinked. 'Oh,' he said.

The man had a very nice, very smug smile. '--I'm Poe.'

'I'm--Finn.' Voice cracking like it hadn't in years. Face still hot hours later.

 

* * *

 

No church on Sunday mornings. Just Nitsa, making circles on his stomach; reading to herself under her breath.

_Wonder this time where she's gone. Wonder if she's gone to stay._

Wonder if...he's ever been in love, Finn thought, then felt shock stiff up his whole spine.

'You should tell the drug dealer to turn his music down,' Nitsa said. With an edge - like she'd repeated herself a few times.

 

* * *

 

'He's not a drug dealer,' Finn mumbled. An hour later, walking Nitsa to her car.

 

* * *

  

Rey, finally, on the phone...with nothing to say.

'I just, um,' fumbling with his laundry, 'I've got a--you know. A thing.' Which wasn't... _un_ true.

'Oh, God, me too.' Clear sound of relief. Wasn't this bad even a semester ago. 'I'll call you later, ok, Finn?'

 

* * *

 

A roof party he didn't really have time for. Losing Nitsa and Amber: a crowd of white bodies. The high, brutal and brief.

_Just tell me it's tearing you apart. Just tell me you cannot sleep._

Staring up at the sky, breath stuck on something in his throat.

Trying to hail down a cab: good luck. Bus instead. Nitsa blowing up his phone.

it wasnt what it looked like!  
u always blow things outuf proportn  
im so sick of this  
arent u?

Home, alone.

Tired. Tired.

 

* * *

 

GIDEON HELLO.....THIS IS YOUR AUNT OMOLARA.....WE HOPE YOU ARE WELL.....AND WORKING VERY HARD.....

YOUR COUSIN KIKELOMO IS DOING VERY WELL.....SHE SENDS HER LOVE.....SHE SAYS YOU HAVE A BIG HEAD.....BUT DO NOT WORRY.....YOUR HEAD IS FINE.....

GOD HAS HIS EYE ON YOU GIDEON.....REMEMBER THAT.....ISAIAH 49:15-16

 

* * *

 

Wiping down the tables, nearly closing time. Getty picked the music; Finn didn't usually mind.

 _Everything stops but that flame in my heart that keeps burning...burning_.

'Are we too late, are you guys closed? Oh - Finn! Hey! This is my neighbour, Jess, the kid I was telling you about.' Poe, sleek-suited, clean-shaven. Laughing. A beautiful woman leaning off his arm. Also laughing.

'No worries,' smiling wide, ha ha, see?, I'm in on the joke, too, 'we'll be open for a while yet.'

 

* * *

 

Hey Finn! This is Amber :)  
No weirdness haha  
Me and Josh just wanted you to know you're still welcome to come to Shabbat dinner  
If you want :)  
Hope you have a good week!

 

* * *

 

Morning commute compromised by bike back wheel. Bus, it was.

A man shouting at no one, everyone: Can God ever let you down? Huh? Zeroing in on Finn when he didn't look away fast enough.

Can God ever let you down?

 

* * *

  

Behold, I am vile;  
What shall I answer You?  
I lay my hand over my mouth.

 

* * *

 

'Heard whatsherface dumped you.' Arjan, slopping his stuff in the seat next to Finn. 'Sucks, dude.'

Blurry smile. Finn took off his glasses, rubbed the lenses on his shirt. 'Thanks,' he said. 'Did you want something?' He opened up a new Word document when the Professor came in; slumped a little in his seat.

'Just hoping to offer a lil'...emotional support,' Arjan said. His left leg was pressed up against Finn's right. On purpose?

'Support, huh,' said Finn, dry-mouthed.

Arjan grinned. 'Something like that.'

 

* * *

 

Sex was--

sex was nothing like running.

 

* * *

  

'Hello?

Finn?

Hello?'

Finn stared at his phone in disbelief. He hadn't actually thought Rey would pick up.

'Finn? Did you butt-dial me again?' Rey'd had, in the past, very long and involved phone conversations with Finn's buttocks.

'I--no,' Finn blurted. His voice felt hoarse and unfamiliar. 'Rey, I think I'm gay.'

A pause. 'Hold on, ok? Just--one second.' Silence, then. Or, not silence: the sound of Rey, breathing. Voices around her falling away. Traffic and horns.

Finn saw her clearly for the first time in weeks, as if she were stood directly in front of him: hunched over her phone in the alley outside Halal Hammock. Sloppy home haircut, drowning in her uniform.

'Are you sure?' Rey asked, very quietly. She was the first girl he'd ever slept with, the first girl he ever loved. If he'd stayed, if he'd stayed...

What would they be now?

Arjan'd been gone for hours - the smell of him still lingered. Finn closed his eyes, breathed it in.

'Pretty sure,' he said.

 

* * *

  

The dream, same as ever: the screams, the world a wall of flame. The piano melting, and he and his hands with it.

No sleep after that; up an hour earlier. Running till the steps fall through his feet. Faster than breath.

Can God ever let you down?

 

* * *

 

'Study date', in Arjan's world at least, implied a lot less studying than it did in Finn's.

'It's just that we could really be at the library instead!' Finn tried to shout over the noise. Man, it was really hard to dance with a backpack full of textbooks.

Arjan nodded exaggeratedly, even though he couldn't have heard even half of what Finn said. 'True! Fun here, though!' Oh. Well. Maybe he had heard.

Arjan swept out a small little space around himself and started doing a pop-thrust-thing and mouthing along to the music: Are you ready for, ready for? A perfect storm, perfect storm?

He looked so ridiculous - Finn couldn't help but laugh. Arjan beamed down at him, thumbs-upped. 'There you go! Smile! Good!' Then he said something Finn didn't hear.

Still laughing, Finn leaned close to hear. 'What?'

Arjan kissed him behind his ear, then on his jaw, then his chin. His lips - his lips - his lips. They kissed until they were jostled off the dance floor.

'Gotta be honest with you,' he murmured, helping Finn stay aright as they stumbled out of the exit, 'I really fuckin' hate clubs.'

 

* * *

 

'I actually, uh, do need to study for something, haha,' Arjan admitted, around 47 minutes later, reaching around Finn to get his phone. 'I just thought it'd be kinda lame for a second date.'

Second date, huh. 'Meanwhile getting beer spilled all over me--' Finn held up an 'OK', clicked his teeth, winked, '--dead sexy.'

Arjan laughed against Finn's shoulder. 'I mean it worked, didn't it?'

 

* * *

 

hey so this random  
but remember charlie chebst  
*chesbe  
*chebet  
everyone tht hed go olympics  
\+ u made us wait  
fr like a full day  
outside his gym  
fry his autograph  
*fr  
on ur birthday  
did u hv a crush on him  
do u reckon ?  
u dont hv to answer tht  
anyway  
lets hv a call soon, yes ?  
as ur long distance bff  
i am obligated to tell u of ur bad taste in guys lol  
also  
im not sure how to say this  
but  
are u out to ur family ?  
not that u have to be !!!  
but some of ur phots with arjan are  
*photos  
kind of obvious ?  
?  
hello ?  
finn ?  
finn i know ur online  
i can see the green dot ...  
did u fall asleep at the computer again?  
finn ...  
this is like a reverse online buttdial  
ur the worst  
lol

 

* * *

 

Midterms. Coffee, cram, cram, cram, catnap, coffee. Morning shift, late to class, I'm truly sorry, ma'am, it won't happen again, evening shift, cram, cram, cram, coffee, coffee--

 _Knock_ , _knock_.

The light abrasive. The screaming two floors up. The man in front of him, smelling like...like... What was that, cologne? Were there were colognes that smelled like that?

'Can you read music?'

Finn blinked. Poe stared back at him intently. 'I-- Can I what?'

'Can you read music?'

Finn shrugged, still somewhat dazed. 'Yea, I--a little.' Unfortunately. 'What's up?'

'Hum this for me.' A wrinkled up paper, coffee or something similar dotting along the sides. Lines and lines and dots and notes - gibberish.  
  
Finn took the page from Poe, smoothed it out against his door. 'What does this say, synths?' Poe nodded. 'Um. All right. So I guess...?'

He...started humming. Had to go really slow and start over a couple of times because of the smudges. And then, almost without him noticing, the threads of the song came around him, and he finished the bar without having to read all the way to the end.

He glanced back up at Poe, who looked resigned. 'That sounds like--'

'Viva La Vida. Yea. I know.' Poe shook his head, took the paper back. 'Fuckin' Coldplay.'

Then he walked back to his own door and slammed it shut behind him.

 

* * *

 

So, Poe: kind of a dick.

 

* * *

 

GIDEON HELLO.....THIS IS YOUR AUNT OMOLARA.....PERHAPS YOU DID NOT GET MY OTHER MESSAGES.....WELL I WANTED TO ASK.....WILL YOU FLY HOME FOR THE HOLIDAY DO YOU THINK.....WE KNOW YOU ARE HARD AT WORK.....AND GETTING GOOD MARKS.....

DO YOU REMEMBER.....THOSE SUMMERS YOU STAYED WITH US.....YOU COULD NOT SLEEP.....UNLESS SOMEONE PLAYED THE PIANO WITH YOU.....I HAVE BEEN THINKING OF THOSE DAYS LATELY.....

WE ARE PRAYING FOR YOU AS ALWAYS.....ROMANS 8:31-39

 

* * *

  

At 13: the divide.

Mrs Epple whisked the girls away. Mr Clarke stood over the boys.

He said: 'Sex is something that happens when you love your wife very much.' Cut-out after chart after diagram of pink see-through bodies. Felt like it took hours; might've only been till noon.

Did you really have to be married to have sex? Finn wondered. Did you have to have a wife, or be a wife? Did you have to be in love?

What could love do?

He put it out of his mind. He didn't want to think about it - he wanted what Mr Clarke said to be true.

 

* * *

  

'I swear to God I'm gonna fuckin' kill that dude.'

This was, apparently, the second time Arjan had said this - he'd woken Finn up to let him know.

'What? What dude?' This was annoying. Finn was annoyed.

'Uh, your loud ass neighbour?'

Finn fumbled for his glasses. What time was it? 'Hhh...his music is not even that loud, Arjan...chill out.' Granted, now that he was awake, Finn could feel the bass thrumming through the wall, but it was the principle of the thing - and Arjan being an inconsiderate dick was both the principle and the thing.

'But how would you know? You were sleeping.'

'Yea, and then some drunk asshole woke me up to scream at me - you don't see me getting all bent out of shape about it.'

Arjan's ire flagged. 'Oh...uh...sorry.' He paused. 'I didn't mean to wake you up, or - well, I guess I did, but I didn't do it because I'm drunk. I'm really not that drunk, I promise.' Ok - whatever. Arjan was always weirdly insistent that he wasn't drunk when he was. Finn nodded to show that he'd heard, then rolled back over onto his side. 'Seriously, Finn - I'm not that drunk.'

A hand came to rest on his upper arm.

Finn rolled flat on his back, looked up at Arjan incredulously. Was he--? Did he seriously think--?

Arjan's lips quirked up into a hopeful smile.

Nah. That was just--not happening. Finn rolled back over onto his side. 'I----'m going back to sleep.'

After a moment: Arjan poked him between the shoulderblades. 'Are you mad?...Babe, don't be mad....Baaaaabe.' Poke. Poke. _Poke_. Finn slapped his hand away. ' _Ow_. Hey, chill out.'

'I was chilled out, Arjan, but that was when I was fucking sleeping. Now I'm awake, because you woke me up, so I am definitely not fucking chill anymore.' It was useless at this point - he was definitely never getting back to sleep, he could feel it. Fuck! 'God, what is your problem, you _know_ I don't have time for this.'

'Oh, and I just have all the fuckin' free time in the world, huh? What do you even think of me, man?' Finn shook his head, covered his eyes with his hand. 'Ok, you know what-- whatever, dude. Just--whatever. I don't even want to talk to you when you're like this.'  
  
'Yea, well, I don't want you to talk to me, either,' said Finn, lifting his hand away. Arjan actually looked shocked - then his face closed off.

'When I'm like this,' Finn fumbled, shocked a little himself - but Arjan was already getting out of bed, pulling on his jeans.

He was clearly pissed - he yanked up his messenger bag so quick he didn't even stop when some of the papers fell out across the kitchen. And if that didn't give it away, he slammed the door so loud the music next-door stopped.

'You left your _phone_ ,' Finn called down the stairs after him. Why did he even get out of bed? 'Which you will _need_. To call a _cab_.'

'I'd rather WALK,' Arjan called up.

'You still need your PHONE,' Finn called back.

'Can you,' said Room 501B very quietly, through a crack in her door, from behind him, 'ummm. Shut the fuck up? Please.'

'--Sorry,' Finn mumbled. God. He could already feel the headache growing.

 

* * *

  

say DICKHEAD! remember me? kiki????? ur cousin!!! stop fuckin ignoring mum u shit!!!! r u coming home or not!!

 

* * *

  

Two days later: Arjan, after his OpSys midterm, in front of Saint Mary's Hall. Backwards cap, open collar; shorts and sandals in the snow because he only had white friends. Doing that little awkward sandal-shuffle-run when he saw Finn. Smiling with his whole face lit up - as if they'd never fought.

'Hey, babe,' Arjan kissed him straight on the mouth like it was nothing, 'oh my god, is that sandwich for me? Hhhg, you are the _best_.'

'It's just a bribe,' Finn cracked out. It looked like Arjan already had a third of the sub in his mouth, impossibly - his slowing chewed; he swallowed; he gave Finn a dubious look. Then he shrugged.

'Well, if it's for something illegal,' he said thoughtfully, 'can we wait until exam results get posted? 'Cus I'm pretty sure I just got a perfect score, and I really want to rub Joffrey's face in it.'

'You always call Jinying Joffrey,' Finn observed, 'but she's actually really sweet.' He was pretty sure she had a crush on Arjan, actually.

'You shhey that, Finn, buhh you dohh know.' Arjan shook his head, mouth full of food. 'You dohh know.'

Finn looked at him - Arjan looked back; made a stupid face.

'--I'm sorry,' Finn said, all at once. 'About before. What I said. Um. I overreacted.'

Arjan shrugged, shook his head. 'No worries, dude. I woulda bit your head off, too. If it was me.'

No worries, Finn thought...but there's 'a way' that I get - and when I get 'that way' you'd prefer not to be around me.

Whatever. They kissed, made up. Professor Gruszka came out after the last of the stragglers, told them to take it elsewhere.

 

* * *

 

i TOLD u arjnn was flirting w u omg!!!  
this nitsa u EX btw  
sorry ddn knw  
sorry  
oh my god pls ignore those texts  
i plead th drunkards 5th

 

* * *

 

'Well, someone's happy.'

Finn turned around, startled. It was...Poe. 'Oh, um, hey. Hi.'

It'd been a few weeks since they'd last seen each other; Finn had been so busy he hadn't really noticed. Much.

'Hello, there,' Poe said, smiling. All-teeth. Oh God.

Finn picked up a menu from a nearby table, held it in front of himself like a shield. 'Um - did you want to sit down?' Poe sat down, took out his phone; flicked through what looked like a few emails. Texts, maybe. 'Can I get you anything?'

'Ahh, yea,' said Poe, without looking up, 'I'll have the name of the song you were just humming, please.'

The song he was humming? What? Finn laughed nervously, glanced around to see who was about.

'I, um, I don't remember,' he said. He probably could've remembered, if he stopped to think about it, but he sensed managing Melanies on the wind. 'Would you like some coffee? Hot chocolate's always nice on mornings like these - or, ah, we have spiced cider?'

Poe still wasn't really looking at him. 'No, I remember it,' he said, vaguely, skipping right over Finn's rambling. 'It went like--' he hummed the song but confused a few notes.

'No, no,' said Finn, shaking his head, 'it goes like--' he hummed it correctly.

Abruptly, Poe looked up at him.

At that moment, trying to figure out Poe's somewhat odd expression, Finn realised that he'd been humming one of his own songs - a piece he hadn't thought of in years.

From the kitchen: Getty, calling out, 'Food's up!'

'Gotta--that's me,' Finn stumbled, turning to go.

'What are you doing after this?' said Poe.

Finn paused. '--Meeting my boyfriend.'

'You think he could spare you?' said Poe. When Finn turned to look at him, he smiled; strained, somehow. 'For a couple hours?'

 

* * *

 

Before the funeral, before the fire, before any of that - before his final performance:

His mother had leaned down over him - he'd been tall for his age, as a child - his mother had leaned down and said, God has given you this gift to share with the world, Gideon. And so with every note you play: give thanks. She cupped his hands, kissed his palms. Give thanks to God.

So he had given thanks in the only way he knew how - and God had ripped his world apart.

 

* * *

 

Part of Finn thought maybe he'd imagined the whole encounter. But no - when his shift ended at noon, there Poe was, sitting in his car outside. His very...mature car.

'I keep it for - _come_ on - aesthetic reasons,' explained Poe, when the car took five minutes to start.

'Do you,' said Finn, politely.

Poe laughed aloud. 'Yea, my Mom made that same face when she saw it.'

Finn smiled without speaking. Never meet your heroes - you'll have nothing to say. Maybe that applied here, too. He fiddled with his phone - no texts. 'Um...I have class at 2.'

'Great,' said Poe, all smiles, clearly not listening. 'So, hey, where's the nearest church?'

Finn stared at him fully. For a wild moment, he wondered if his aunt was behind this, somehow. But that would be...that would be crazy. Hm.

'I don't know,' he said, very carefully. 'Are you religious?'

'Oh, not at all--uhh, hang on a sec,' said Poe, answering his buzzing phone, 'hey, it's Eddie.'

Eddie? Who was Eddie? Was Poe Eddie? Was Finn about to get axe murdered by someone named Eddie? What a way to go.

'I can't do it right now, Jess, I'm busy. It's--it's just something I have to do, tell her I'm busy. Well, tell her I'm busy then!, nononono, don't give her the--heyyyy, Scarla, how are you?' An angry voice on the other end. 'That's grr-e-a-t, fan-tas-tic, no, ok, obviously that sounds bad. Mm, yes, very awful, YES, you are saying words, and I am hearing you, ok? I-am-hear-ing- _you_ , your feedback is very important to me--oh, hello? Scarla? Are you there?' Tinny cursing in reply. 'Oh, no, I'm going...kghr...tunnel...kghhh...signal...gkhcallkgh...later!'

Poe ended the call, turned his phone off and tossed it into the little tray under his radio. Grinned when he noticed Finn staring. 'Not one of my better trapped-in-a-tunnel impressions,' he admitted.

'You sounded like you were being choked,' said Finn. Then stared out the window while he blushed.

 _Ck-nk_ , _ck-nk_ , _ck-nk_ \- the sound of the turn signal. Poe clearing his throat. Saying: 'So... you're Gideon Dafinone, right?'

Finn's stomach went down in knots; he reached for his seat belt with one hand and the lock on the door with the other.

'Are you a reporter?' What was the line he was supposed to say? God, it had been _years_ since the lawsuit. 'I have nothing to say and I'd like to leave now, please.' Something like that, anyway.

'Hey, hey, ease up,' said Poe. 'I'm not a reporter--ok, hold on, I'm doing this wrong.' He turned left, drove on until he pulled into a random car park, left the car idling. Unlocked both of their doors.

The day was bright and cool, the roads busy. They sat in silence.

'--I don't mean to be weird,' said Poe, low. Finn felt his pulse jump in his neck. 'Everytime I saw you, I thought...there's something about him, there's something about him - and then it clicked, earlier today.' He undid his belt - slow - turned to stare at Finn. 'It _is_ you, isn't it?'

Finn took a breath. A breath and a breath. Nodded.

'Maybe we don't have to go to a church,' said Poe, almost to himself. 'Maybe I can say this right here.' He blinked, light, three times. 'I don't believe in--divine providence or, or you know, any of that kind of stuff. I don't believe there's some great big reason behind most of the stuff that happens, because...most of the stuff in our lives, or a lot of it, anyway...a lot of it we choose, and if we choose it, it can't be thanks to some...God. You know?'

Rhetorical question. Finn wouldn't have known how to answer otherwise.

'And the rest of the stuff, the really awful stuff, why would we--I don't, you know, really want to think that...somewhere out there, there's a God who's responsible. For doing that. For choosing that for us--for any of us.'

He turned away from the wheel, looked Finn in the eyes. 'But you know - you saved my Dad's life? When he was so sick he couldn't even sit up in bed, he would--he would listen to you play.' Poe shook his head. Finn didn't know what to do. 'And it was the only thing that kept him going, it was the only thing that kept him lucid.' Poe covered his chin with the top of his hand. 'I mean...he did die, he is dead now.'

'I'm sorry,' said Finn.

Poe just kept shaking his head, like, no problem, no big deal. 'I mean...we all gotta go sometime, right? But when you do...when your parents do--' He stopped - took in a sharp breath. '--you don't want them to be in pain.' He swiped at his eyes, impatient. 'And he wasn't in pain when he died - and that was because of you.' He turned to look at Finn. Finn couldn't look away. 'And I have always--' His voice broke, but he kept on. '--always wanted to thank you. And I thought I would never get the chance. Meeting you, I mean--it's like, a one-in-a-million type deal.' He sniffed, scrunched up his face. Nodded. 'And I can't help but think...you know. Maybe. Maybe this is a God thing.'

Ha! Yea. Yea, right. Finn looked out the window. 'I mean...I'm glad for your dad and all but I don't think...like, I honestly don't think God had anything to do with it. It was just--' he shrugged. '--chance. If it wasn't my music, it would've been someone else's.'

'Are you kidding?' Poe laughed. Finn didn't turn his head. 'Forget about the music - statistically speaking, do you know what the _odds_ are that you and I would--'

'Leave out the statistics, ok,' said Finn, 'if God can do the impossible, leave 'em out, ok, they don't _mean_ anything. Ok. So - if God can do anything, like, not He can do everything, but like, if He can even do one single thing, why would He let your dad get sick in the first place? Hm? So sick he can't even sit up, what kind of fucked up bullshit is that? You mean to tell me, oh, He can do the impossible, but He's not going to save my parents? He can bend time and space, ok, but that electric fire still happens, and all those people still die, my parents and sisters still die...but He's still great and He's still good, because He said fuck the statistics this one time and brought us here to the same fuckin' place at the same fuckin' time? Well, what good does that do? Huh? What good does any of it do?'

He blinked hard and realised he was shaking. He wiped his eyes, swallowed uselessly around the lump in his throat, and knew that if he tried to say anything else, he would break down into tears.

After a pause, Poe said: 'You have class at 2, you said?'

Finn nodded sharply, still not looking at him.

Poe turned the car back on, turned it around, pulled back out onto the road - and that was that.

 

* * *

 

Or at least -

that should've been that. But Poe kept popping up out of nowhere to try to _talk to him_. It was getting...annoying.

'Umm,' said Arjan, after one such encounter, 'is there....? Like. Something I should know?'

'What do you mean,' Finn said, opening the cupboards. 'Oh, you can just put the dairy and stuff on the counter.' Arjan complied. 'Thank you.' Finn paused, looked at him across the kitchen. Arjan looked back, still with that awkward look on his face. 'What do you mean...is there something you should know.'

Arjan scrubbed a hand through his hair, heaved a huge sigh. 'I mean...we're exclusive, right? Like, I haven't been--I haven't been seeing anyone else.'

Finn had no idea where this was coming from, or where it was going. 'Ok...? Good? I mean--neither have I?' Arjan shot him a deeply sceptical look. Ok, what the fuck? 'What's that face? Why's it seem like you don't believe me?'

Arjan crossed his arms. 'Ok, it's not that--like, I don't, like, not believe you, dude, but, like--your neighbour?, who you've been crushing on for like--'

'I don't have a crush on him,' Finn said. Arjan barrelled right over him:

'--for like _as long as I've fucking known you_ , he just starts showing up everytime we go somewhere. Like? Just now he was like--' Arjan did an impression of Poe's face, scowly and scrunched '-- _How are you_. Like, what is that even about?'

Finn had a crystal clear moment - where he actually wondered if he was going insane. 'That's...that's a thing that you say, Arjan. _How are you_...is definitely a thing that people say.'

Arjan shook his head. 'Ok, but...it was the _way_ that he said it. First off, he didn't even say hi to me; he never does. And he didn't say it, like, in that casual way you do with strangers when you don't really care - like, he said it in that way you say it after you sleep with someone, and you want to make sure everything's still cool between the two of you.'

 _What_?

Finn laughed, because he honestly didn't know what else to do. 'You're being ridiculous. Like, you know that, right? Like, you think we're sleeping together because he _asked me how I was_? That makes no sense, Arjan.'

Arjan scoffed. 'Yea. Ok. I guess I'm just crazy.' He waved his hands around his head. 'I guess I'm just _imagining_ how you look at him. It's all in my head, right?'

Oh, pull the other fucking one, it's got bells on. 'Ok, but that's not what you're saying, Arj. You're not saying, oh, I think he's good-looking, because I do, I never said I didn't, and you actually never asked--'

Arjan cut in: '--I never needed to ask because it's like, legit? The most obvious fucking thing in the world, Finn.'

Finn barely suppressed an eyeroll. '--ok, but that's not what we're talking about right now.'

'Well, actually, that is what I'm talking about,' Arjan said. His face had gone all narrow and flushed, which meant that they were really having a genuine disagreement about this.

'Fine, whatever, whether or not it's obvious that I think he's nice to look at, there's--l,like,' Finn found himself stammering, he didn't think he'd ever said 'like' so much in his life, 'like, you know there's a big difference between me finding some stranger nice to look at, and me hooking up with him behind your back? You know that, right?'

'Oh, most definitely,' said Arjan. 'And if it was just you "finding him nice to look at"--' nice, actual air quotes, this was going great '--I wouldn't have said anything. But like, you don't even look at him anymore, Finn. You know that, right? He comes over all weird, like, trying to catch your attention - and you always look _pissed_. Like, there's history there! Beyond--' Arjan waved his hand up in the air '--whatever else was there before. So don't try to tell me there's nothing going on, Finn, because I just won't believe you.'

Finn looked at him - and genuinely considered telling him the truth.

I was some kind of savant on the piano as a kid. I played sold-out concerts all over the world. Sold millions of CDs. And then...then there was a freak accident at one of my performances. A fire broke out; a lot of people died. My parents died. My little sisters died. Because of me. I'm not supposed to talk about this with anyone. I don't play anymore. I don't believe in God. And I don't think Poe believes in God, either - but lately he looks at me like...like...

How to explain?

'Well. I guess that's just what it comes down to,' Finn said, turning around. 'You don't believe me.'

 

* * *

 

The night before Thanksgiving break. One week later.

'Why is it that you're only ever real with me when we fight?' Arjan mumbled into his neck. In less than 5 hours he would be on a plane back to Spokane. 'Otherwise...you just hide.'

And Finn, what could he say? He pretended to be asleep.

 

* * *

 

GIDEON HELLO.....THIS IS YOUR AUNT OMOLARA.....THIS MORNING I WOKE UP AND THOUGHT.....TODAY WILL BE A GOOD DAY.....WELL PRAISE GOD.....THAT WAS WHEN I SAW YOUR MESSAGE.....WE ARE SO HAPPY YOU WILL BE COMING HOME.....YOUR COUSIN KIKELOMO SAYS YOUR HEAD IS GETTING BIGGER BUT THAT IS NOT TRUE.....I HAVE LOOKED AT YOUR BOOK OF FACES.....AND YOU LOOK MORE AND MORE LIKE YOUR FATHER EVERYDAY.....

GIDEON MY BIGGEST REGRET IN LIFE.....IS TURNING AWAY FROM MY BROTHER WHEN HE NEEDED ME.....GIDEON YOUR FATHER WAS A GODLY MAN.....A FAITHFUL MAN.....BUT EVEN HE HAD HIS DOUBTS.....AND ONE DAY HE SHARED THEM WITH ME.....AND I REBUKED HIM.....AND SPOKE UNKINDLY TO HIM.....

GIDEON YOU DO NOT NEED TO WORRY THAT I WILL EVER TURN AWAY FROM YOU.....NO MATTER WHAT YOU DECIDE TO BE.....NO MATTER WHO YOU LOVE.....OR WHO YOU CHOOSE TO LOVE.....

BUT MORE THAN ME.....MORE THAN ANY ONE ON EARTH.....YOU MUST KNOW THAT GOD WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU.....GOD WILL ALWAYS BLESS YOU AND GUIDE YOU.....IF YOU WOULD ONLY LOOK TO HIM.....

WELL I HAVE SAID ENOUGH ABOUT IT.....YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL.....PLEASE SEND ME YOUR FLIGHT INFORMATION SO WE CAN MEET YOU AT THE AIRPORT.....WE WILL SEE EACH OTHER SOON.....PSALM 34:19

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Biblical references and allusions (in order of appearance) **
> 
> \- The title, _fish for serpents_ , is a spin on Luke 11:11 (NKJV): If a son asks for bread from any father among you, will he give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will he give him a serpent instead of a fish?  
> \- Aunt Omolara, at the end of her first message, refs Isaiah 49:15-16 (NASB): Can a woman forget her nursing child, and have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you. Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are continually before Me.  
> \- At the end of Job, God responds twice to Job's discourses on the nature of suffering with many questions of His own. At the end of God's first response, Job replies: Behold, I am vile; What shall I answer You? I lay my hand over my mouth. Once I have spoken, but I will not answer; Yes, twice, but I will proceed no further. (Job 40:4,5 NKJV).  
> \- Aunt Omolara, in her second message, refs a very long passage from the middle of Romans. Here are the last two verses, which I consider a neat bit of syntax: For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:38,39 NASB).  
> \- Aunt Omolara, in her final message, refs Psalm 34:19 (NKJV): Many are the afflictions of the righteous, But the LORD delivers him out of them all.  
> \- Coincidence that Finn's namesake has this exchange (Judges 6:12,13 NASB): The angel of the LORD appeared to him and said to him, The LORD is with you, O valiant warrior. Then Gideon said to him, O my lord, if the LORD is with us, why then has all this happened to us?
> 
>  **Music References (in order of appearance)**  
>  Sorry if any of these videos aren't available in your country! Feel free to link alternatives.
> 
> \- Arvo Pärt is an Estonian composer and hymnist. [ An example of his work](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HON4AswPVk).  
> \- The lyrics _'Cus I got a cute face and my booty so fat_ are from an earlier version of Beyoncé's 2013 song [Grown Woman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3MjxWn5W9M).  
>  \- _Unapologetic_ (2012); _Loud_ (2010); _Rated R_ (2009); _Talk That Talk_ (2011); and _A Girl Like Me_ (2006) are some of Rihanna's albums.  
>  \- _Desire_ (1976) is a Bob Dylan album. A track off of that album can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dach3Cm_8NA).  
>  \- _III_ (1971) is Santana's third self-titled album. A track off of that album can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jli1gW37fqk).  
>  \- _Horses_ (1975) is a Patti Smith album. A track off of that album can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6QNOPYpIa3Q).  
>  \- _Young Americans_ (1975) is a David Bowie album; [Win](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-E-AgP-Ax78) is a song off of it.  
>  \- The lyrics _Wonder this time where she's gone. Wonder if she's gone to stay_ are from the 1971 Bill Withers song [Ain't No Sunshine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuKfiH0Scao)  
>  \- The lyrics _Just tell me it's tearing you apart. Just tell me you cannot sleep_ are from the 2005 song [Blue Light](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zO0OzsjXU-0) by Bloc Party.  
>  \- The lyrics _Everything stops but that flame in my heart that keeps burning... burning_ are from the popular ballad There's a Lull in My Life. The version Getty, Finn's co-worker, [is listening to](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I2JR7X950wE), is off of Ella Fitzgerald's 1957 album _Like Someone in Love_  
>  \- [Blah blah Viva La Vida](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9PT2EtAcok).  
> \- The song Arjan is dancing to in the club is Katy Perry's [Dark Horse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F9S-88WxPdE).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three messages.

 

 

Hey. Not sure if you still use this email address.

I should be rescheduling a flight right now but a friend of mine sent me your song this morning and I havent been able to stop playing it. Beautiful work man. Next time you're in Cali we should meet up. My number is the same.

P

 

* * *

 

JOHNSON: So eight years ago, you're one of the most well-known songwriters in the United States, you write scores of songs for megastars like Scarla, Li'l Edge, Nasleen, all of them hugely, hugely successful--

DAMERON: N-o, not all of them! (laughs)

JOHNSON: (laughs) Well, almost all of them. So you're a very successful songwriter for all kinds of popular artists - then you decide one day, hey, I want to make my own music. Now you're on your third album, _8hours_ , released on your own record label [SOLO]. Let's talk about that. How did you go from Point A to Point C? Or really - _why_ did you go from Point A to Point C? Let's start out slow. Why the sudden career change?

DAMERON: I wouldn't call it a career change so much as...a crisis of faith. I had sort of--I don't want to say _resigned_  myself to my work, because writing a solid pop hit on a consistent basis is still very challenging. You definitely have far fewer hits than misses. It can only ever be about improving your average.

JOHNSON: So - why the crisis of faith?

DAMERON: It's just, with your own music, or in other genres, you can kind of--do your own thing. To an extent. But with pop you are very actively trying to either court trends or start new ones. You have to resist the market at the same time as it makes you its [servant].

JOHNSON: Do you find that previously working with big stars helps or hurts your career as an independent artist? Professionally, I mean. Among other independent artists.

DAMERON: I'm not really sure how to answer that. I mean, if other artists haven't heard of me, they're pretty cool. And actually, they can be pretty cool even if they have heard of me. But people can get kind of [funny] once they figure out that I don't really have anything against pop music in general. I'm not ashamed of my earlier work and that's, you know, to some people that's almost an insult! Like, to what _they're_ doing, somehow. It can get sort of combative. You know, how can you put Bubble Bounce up against your other work? Against _real_ music? That kind of thing.

JOHNSON: Do you? Consider Bubble Bounce against your other work?

DAMERON: Do I-- (laughs) I don't know. You know, every thing has its purpose. The purpose in producing that song was to get everyone singing it. So in that sense it was--(laughs) it was successful.

JOHNSON: (laughs) It was very successful.

DAMERON: Right, yea. So in a sense you have a song with--let's be honest here, pretty [freaking] explicit lyrics. And the goal is to get everyone singing it, everyone doing the dance, the, the--

JOHNSON: The Bounce.

DAMERON: Right, right, the Bounce (laughs). So as a work written for a specific purpose, that song was very successful, very effective. And you know, overall, I actually liked Bubble Bounce a lot more than some of my other work, because I got to work with a bunch of different artists down in NOLA. But I don't know how personally fulfilled it made me. When you write pop music for other people, you're not necessarily putting anything-- You know the Every Man story?

JOHNSON: I am familiar, yes.

DAMERON: Oh, right, yea, of course. (laughs) Well, pop music is supposed to be the Every Man story. The goal is for every listener to be the singer, or at least for them to be the only audience member. Music like that has to have a message that anyone can enjoy and appreciate. So I'm not likely to get a hit if I describe a very specific event that happened, say, at my uncle's dinner party 13 years ago.

JOHNSON: Because it's not relatable.

DAMERON: Right, yea, it's just not relatable! And it's not only that, it's also-- I'm not just not writing about myself personally, I'm also not really putting individualised information about whichever artist I'm working with. Because if they don't want that specific song, I gotta make sure I can still sell it to whoever else. So it's tailored to be a very anonymous process.

JOHNSON: You said earlier that you hadn't resigned yourself to this process. How else would you describe how you fit into the process, then?

DAMERON: Uhh...acclimated. I would say I had acclimated to it.

JOHNSON: So what changed to bring you where you are now?

DAMERON: Well - I kind of had a Come to Jesus moment. Without any of the, you know, coming to Jesus. (laughs) I was very intimately reminded of the power of music.

JOHNSON: Could you expand on that?

DAMERON: I mean, I'm pretty comfortably agnostic - I don't really bother about religion and religion doesn't really bother about me. But there are certain things, just, you know, sort of momentous occasions where you gotta just pause and kinda go, wow! There's something else going on here.

JOHNSON: And what momentous occasion reminded you of the power of music?

DAMERON: Well, I mean, you might've already heard the story before, I've probably talked about it a million times.

JOHNSON: I'm quite new to your career, actually, so this might be a first for me!

DAMERON: (laughs) What a polite way of saying you'd never heard of me before.

JOHNSON: Er, well - (laughs) Never mind. Ah, you said there was, ah, a momentous occasion? That reminded you of the power of music.

DAMERON: (laughs) Well. Yea. I had this, ah, really...intense moment with a person who helped my father out when he got sick. We stumbled upon each other so completely by accident, it really did feel like some sort of sign. So there was that. And there was also--I don't know how to describe it.

DAMERON: ...There was this _love_ , this gratitude that went through me at the time. And it felt so much bigger than me. So much greater than me. I didn't even know them at that point and I fell in love with them for what they'd done for me. So there was that, too.

JOHNSON: Some of your fans speculate that you've dedicated each of your albums to this mystery person. Is there any truth in that?

DAMERON: (laughs) What, Soul? 'To my soul'? No, no - that's to my soul. Pretty literal. (laughs)

JOHNSON: Well, to what extent would you say your faith - your beliefs - informs your music?

DAMERON: Ah, I wouldn't say--I think it informs my _career_ right now.

JOHNSON: Even though you previously described this shift as a crisis in faith and not a career change?

DAMERON: Ah. Well. Yes.

JOHNSON: Yes?

DAMERON: Yes, I would still say that because...Well, because life is absurd and filled with discrepancies. (laughs)

JOHNSON: (laughs)

DAMERON: Really, though - I would probably say my faith has informed my goals more than anything else...which I suppose wrap themselves up in both my music and my career. I don't think I could acclimate to writing music I didn't believe in right now. But it's not like I'm gonna be doing this forever, I mean I really only have so much to say. Also I don't think anybody's, like, dying to hear it all, to be honest.

JOHNSON: You have some extremely devoted fans who would say otherwise.

DAMERON: That's fine. I don't, ah, I don't really get it? But that's fine.

JOHNSON: So you won't be doing this forever?

DAMERON: Yea, I'm, I mean. I'm only where I am now because there's literally nowhere else I could be. Really. Honestly. It's a survival thing. I needed a break to just be completely about myself.

JOHNSON: An eight-year break?

DAMERON: (laughs) Yea. I needed to really get to know my own voice. I almost lost sight of it, of me--and then all at once, meeting, meeting the person I did, I felt...like I was listening to a recording of myself. And remembering the strangeness of my own voice. And I just became obsessed! With myself. That's why I'm just really stunned and grateful when anyone says they like my stuff, because it's really just for me. Just totally selfish.

JOHNSON: But you are producing something for others to listen to - so it can't ever really be totally selfish.

DAMERON: I guess. But, I mean, at the end of the day, what do I have? What, survival? -- one -- and selfish -- two. That's not sustainable. I can't build the rest of my life on that.

JOHNSON: Is this your way of saying _8hours_ will be your last album before returning to pop music?

DAMERON: Who knows?

JOHNSON: Hopefully, you do.

DAMERON: (laughs) Well, I don't know, sorry. Some people would say that if I don't keep doing this, if I don't keep pushing my own voice even when it's strained...some people would say that that makes me inauthentic. And that's fine. I can't prove anything to anybody who doesn't want to believe.

JOHNSON: What about writing your own music makes you believe? In yourself, in God...in whatever.

DAMERON: Oh...well, nothing.

JOHNSON: Nothing?

DAMERON: I don't believe in anything because I write. I write because I believe in something.

JOHNSON: You're a bit of a contrarian, aren't you?

DAMERON: (laughs) I come by it naturally.

JOHNSON: In that case, what do you believe that writing your own music allows you to do?

DAMERON: It allows me to remember...that it's me reaching out. You know? Writing for someone else, music or pop or whatever, it's just generally a [crap shoot]. Because it's you--

JOHNSON: --but not really.

DAMERON: Right, but not really. And there's not really anything wrong with that, like, it's a pretty solid gig -- but when I was doing it, I'd forgotten that there was any other way to use music to reach someone else.

JOHNSON: So for now you're reaching out this way.

DAMERON: Right, yea. And if this doesn't work...well, if this doesn't work, I don't know what else will!

 

* * *

 

RESERVA LA FECHA / SAVE THE DATE  
para la boda de / We're finally getting married!  
ADANA MARROQUIN MANUEL + EDGARDO ALAN DAMERON  
10 de JUNIO, 2026 / June 10, 2026  
ATLANTA, GEORGIA

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

After two kisses, one hug, and 30 seconds of small talk, Ana declared: 'You're freaking out.'

Finn stopped pacing long enough to accept Poe's side-hug (which sadly devolved into a minimalist manly-man backpat). 'I'm, I'm not freaking out,' he protested. 'I'm _thinking_.'

'Well, could you think a little more quietly, please,' said Joseph, from the corner, fingers in furious flight all over his comm.

Ana and Poe twitched. Finn bit his lip, turned his back, and took another turn around the room.

'Really, Finn?' murmured Poe. 'Really.'

'Hey, Joe!' said Ana, more loudly. 'Didn't see you there! How was Goba?'

'--Quiet,' said Joseph, after a pause. Finn turned in time to catch Ana's expression. They stared at each other in embarrassed dismay.

'Probably because nobody wanted to talk to you,' said Poe, under his breath. Behind him, over his shoulder: the little hand on the clock on the wall surged ever onward.

10 minutes now...and now less even than that. Soon it would be 9, then it would be 5 - and finally there would be nothing between him and the lights...the fire, the fear. And with his family in the front row!, God, what was he _doing_? It would, it would happen all over again, there was no way to stop it - there was no other way.

The tie at his neck became waterlogged rope, thickenandswell-ing round the windpipe. The ground stutt-ring beneath, the air-gainst the lungs, the space uphead pushout till all-sharp-bright-fear.

It was then that God spoke.

For the first time in years God spoke - Finn heard, and he listened. He shook his head, watched his vision swim. Poe and Joseph were arguing, it sounded like, but he could not hear their words.

'I,' he realised, 'cannot do this.'

All became quiet. He closed his eyes, and tried to keep breathing. It felt as if the cold of the room had returned to his senses. Was there a window open somewhere?

'That's ok, Finn,' said Ana, softly, and he realised she was beside him, holding him near, and must have been for some time. 'It's ok. Let's go.'

'What do you mean you can't do this?' said a voice. Joseph. 'You've worked so hard to get here, please, Finn, I _know_ \--'

Finn narrowed in on the press of Ana's fingers against his back, the rough sound of her voice melting against his ears. She smelled like sweat - like talcum - like Poe's cologne. Where was Poe?

'I'm here, I hear you, don't worry, I'm here,' said Poe. Somebody was pulling off his blazer and loosening his tie -- he could breathe, oh, he could breathe again.

'--can't go out there like this!' Ana was saying. 'Look at him, he's about to--'

'Do you know how many people are out there?' A voice he didn't recognise. 'He can't just--'

A door slamming. Hands gripping him at the waist, around the ribs. Opening his eyes, Poe, dear Poe, holding him up and surrounding him.

'I'm sorry,' said Finn, clutching, 'I wanted to, I wanted to--'

To do this, he thought; to prove to myself that I was stronger; to let go of this terror; this fear.

'I know,' said Poe, 'I know you did.'

 

* * *

 

A Weekend In Love  
Joseph Waysira

  
For two long days I loved you  
Back then you loved me too  
And now that I have wronged you  
all thoughts come back to you.

My body not of wax -  
those days could hardly melt  
\- has gathered up the facts  
of how I know how you felt.

I reached in you and found  
a self I didn't know -  
those days I would've drowned  
because you told me to.

Well Sunday night you left me  
you left me on my own -  
the weekend now is over  
my days and I, alone.

 

* * *

 

Sales took a brief spike after his no-show, but _Summertime_ didn't do that well at all. Ana said Poe played it all the time, but that didn't really count, did it - Poe probably would've done the same for a record of him golf-clapping for an hour and a half.

The track named for Zara, at least, saw a fair bit of action - for obvious reasons.

'Za-ra ba-by, Zara ba-by,' said Finn, playing with tiny brown fists, 'lit-tle one, lit-tle one. Mum-my is a terr-or, Uncle's so much bet-ter, dingdongding, ding _dong_ ding.' Zara smiled up at him gummily, then drooled all over his hands. 

Finn evaluated the sequence of events. 'Fair enough,' he concluded.

In the other room, Ayo fudged a few notes - then abruptly stopped playing altogether. For a few minutes, save the sound of rain, all was silence.

'[4'33"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTEFKFiXSx4) is still banned, Ayo,' said Finn, 'don't even try it!'

Some moments later, Ayo came padding into the room with her arms folded behind her back.

'Excuse me, Zara,' she said, 'I need to speak with Uncle Gideon, please.' Zara babbled so broadly she nearly tipped forward facedown onto the couch. Ayo nodded gravely, then cleared her throat.

'Uncle Gideon,' she said, facing Finn head-on, 'it's time to be honest about this. In this world, there are two kinds of people: those who are suited to being pianists, and those who are not.'

'Also in this world,' said Finn, 'are two kinds of nieces: those who play the piano when they're supposed to, and those who try to wriggle out of it.'

Frowning, Ayo looked down at the floor. 'Didn't you wriggle out of your performance last week?' Chee-ky.

It was easy enough to laugh about it, now that it was more or less all over. His ambitions, his career, his relationship - all of it. 'Well, I'm an adult, Ayo, which means I pay my own bills,' he said. 'And you know what that means.'

Ayo made a scowling duckface. 'You get to wriggle all you want,' she said flatly.

Finn took pity on her - for all her talent, Ayo really didn't seem to like playing piano much at all. He gathered Zara in his arms, glanced at his watch and stood to his feet. Kiki would probably be home from work in a half-hour or so. Maybe more - delays every other day on the Central Line, seemed.

'How about we all play together?' he offered. As a practical matter this more or less always meant Finn playing, Ayo watching, and Zara trying to bash her forehead into the keys.

But then it also meant this, too: Ayo's face lighting up, biting her lip as she quite clearly sorted through all the songs she wanted to hear played. Finn smiled down at her without meaning to.

'Well,' said Ayo, 'it's raining now. So how about we play Deep River?'

'What, no Flaxen Hair?' Finn teased, gently tugging one of her little puffballs. Zara tried to do the same, and finally leaned over so far she might've wriggled out of Finn's hold if Ayo hadn't pulled her into her arms. 'No, said Ayo, remaining stolid in the face of Zara's attempts to climb all over her head, 'let's play that later.'

So at the piano bench they sat, Zara hanging over Ayo's shoulders, Finn pushed nearly to the edge. A minor bit of recalibration later: Zara was sat firmly in Ayo's lap, Finn was...pushed nearly to the edge.

He raised his fingers above the keys, just grazing the tops, not quite touching - and for a single, perfect moment, the drumming of the rain filled him up, like a pitcher of water to a glass of air.

Then he set to: [Deep River](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=94Hwl1g47-o/), The Line, [Nocturne op. 9 no. 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nu48Z45ibxQ), [Le Fille Au Cheveux de Lin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TEdSdtztfLQ), [Douce Reverie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnF-PkEns3o), Little Ayo, [Un Sospiro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JXMdpGpfBU), [Venus de Milo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6jQ9qy4GG0), [One Summer's Day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d1ni1sVCgEk) \-- on and on, 'till his fingers flew ahead of his thoughts...--

\--and faltered. What song was this? It was faintly familiar, but definitely not distinctive enough to pull out the memory it'd snagged upon. He repeated the melody, combing through his mind for the source and coming up empty. What was it?

 _But I've been walking through the night and day_ , sang a quiet voice behind him, _'till my eyes grow weary, and my hair turns grey. And sometimes I think_ \-- the woman sighed -- _maybe God's gone away. Forgetting his..._ hmmhmm _...and the_ hmm hm hmmm.

Finn came back to himself with a little laugh - Kiki always forgot the words. _And we're lost out he-re in the stars_. Her voice, light and dear to him, closer now. _Little stars_ : her arms came around his neck, she leaned loosely against his back. _Big stars_ : her chin came to rest on the top of his head. Her words hummed through the heart of him: _Blowing through the night...and we're lost out here...in the stars_.

'--You're wet!' Finn realised, shaking her off slightly. Kiki leaned back, and sighed, and laughed. She sat next to him on the bench; Finn belatedly realised he was sat there alone. 'Oh, where are the--where are the girls?'

'Why, playing the 'screen, of course,' said Kiki, very dryly.

'Oh,' said Finn, guiltily. 'Sorry.'

'Oh, it's alright,' Kiki waved him off, 'we've got a very solid co-parenting schedule on, the 'screen and I.' Finn decisively did not wince. 'You don't have to handle me with kid gloves, you know. I knew I'd be on my own at the end of it all.' She huffed out a laugh. 'Biggest surprise was that Ruth stuck it out as long as she did, really.'

'Really?' said Finn, nudging her. ' _That's_ the biggest surprise? Not that her mom tried to catfish you?' Life was full of surprises greater even than that. Auntie Omolara, for example, who'd been perfectly, abstractly fine with Finn's gayness, had refused to come to Kiki's wedding.

Kiki cocked her head, scratched the newly shaved side of her head. 'Mauhm? What is a mauhm?'

Finn let her change the subject. 'Aw, leave me to my moms, Keeks.'

Kiki did not appear to be listening. 'Ayo?' she yelled. 'Do you know what a mauhwm is?'

A suspicious silence. Then, in a slightly breathless voice, Ayo said, 'No, Mummy!'

'--What are you doing out there?' Kiki said, alarmed, rising to her feet and quickly walking out of the room. 'You better not be in the kitchen, Ayo!' Finn stood as well, trailed after her with a smile.

'I wasn't, I didn't--, it wasn't me, Mummy, honest!' said Ayo, from under a precise all-over layer of flour.

'Really,' said Kiki, picking up Zara, who was gigglingly pushing the exasperated protagonist of Leery Boy into a wall. Oh, that film was definitely not kid-friendly. Finn swatted up the remote while Kiki asked: 'Who was it, then.'

Ayo's eyes flitted around desperately for some inspiration nearby. 'It was a, a boy,' she mumbled.

Kiki appeared to ponder this. 'So you're telling me a _boy_ came in and...what, threw flour all over you? And then just left?' Ayo nodded meekly. Kiki frowned. 'That's got to be a crime. You did law after me, Gid, tell me - is flour-throwing and exiting still a crime?'

'It most certainly is,' said Finn, very seriously, returning the remote to its place on the table. 'Why, wheat shortages being what they are, I think you're going to have to call the police down here.'

Ayo quailed. 'Oh dear!' said Kiki, 'the _police_. I do so hate being involved with them - you know they don't like me much. Still,' she heaved a sigh, 'if there's a boy going about, throwing flour at little girls, I've got a responsibility to report it the proper authorities. Hand me my bag, will you? I think my comm's still in there.' Zara babbled in query. 'Not you, Zeddy-bear - I was talking to your sister. Ayo, would you hand me my bag, please?'

Ayo scrunched up her face as if she might cry - Kiki blinked at her and smiled, like a great lazy cat. Ayo gave it up for lost, sighed, and handed her mother her bag.

'Now, what did this boy look like?' said Kiki, yanking Calltext up from her comm.

'He was...tall,' said Ayo, looking down and away, 'and he had a sad face. He told me he liked to bake, only...only he wasn't very good at it.'

'Tall, sad-faced, likes to bake,' Kiki echoed, erasing extraneous text with a wave of her hand. 'He seemed to tell you a lot about himself. Did he tell you why he decided to go into the kitchen, even though only adults are allowed?'

Ayo shrunk down yet further. 'He wanted to make something nice for his mum,' she said, 'because she'd had a long day and looked sad.'

Kiki broke character for a bit, gave Ayo a charmed smile. 'Well,' she said after a moment, turning her comm off, 'he sounds simply lovely, if a little misguided. I don't think we've got to call the police after all, do you, Gideon?' She paused then, as if just realising something. 'Oh, but - who will clean up the mess he made?'

' _I'll_ do it, Mummy,' Ayo said solemnly. 'I feel responsible.'

'Oh, Ayo, would you? Would you really? Oh, my darling, you're so good - why don't you go get cleaned up so I can give you a hug?' No sooner had Ayo turned and run up the stairs than did Kiki turn and, laughing, say: 'What a little shit!'

'She is your daughter, after all,' said Finn, to a shove. 'And she's my niece, too, you know.'

Kiki stared at him incredulously. 'Yes, Gideon,' she said slowly, as if he were dim, 'that is rather how family works.'

'No, I meant,' how to say this? 'I meant you'll always be in my life, Keeks - so she'll always be in my life, too. Both of them will. So you won't be alone, not ever; not really.'

Kiki smiled and shrugged. 'You live a continent away, Gid,' she said softly. 'With your _moms_ and all. How much can you really be in our lives?'

'Then I'll move here,' said Finn. Simple solution.

Kiki sighed. 'Don't just go saying things like that.'

'I'm really not,' said Finn. 'I've been thinking about this, I'm serious. You're here, the girls are here--' he did not mention his aunt, because Kiki didn't yet know that they were on speaking terms again '--Rey's here. What's there for me in the States?'

'Your manager?' said Kiki. The great thing about family was that sometimes, you didn't have to say a single word. 'Oh-kay, well...what about your place?'

'Bhh-bhhh,' said Zara, buzzing her lips against Kiki's neck. She was ignored.

'Sold it last month,' said Finn. Kiki gaped. 'It was just time for a new start.' Wasn't as if he and Joseph would be living together anymore. 'Actually...I sort of need somewhere to stay for a bit. Do you know anyone's who renting out a room?...Preferably someone with a shambles of a personal life and two kids that need looking after.'

Kiki took a second to rally again: 'No, wait, what about Joseph?'

'Oh, that's over, that's done with,' said Finn, waving his hand, as if it hadn't hurt at all, as if he hadn't spent just last night choked up over old photos of them.

'Well aren't you keen,' she said, face full of poorly hidden sympathy. '--What about Poe, then.'

Finn paused, swallowed - and smiled. 'Well, he's in Atlanta,' he said, lightly. 'With his wonderful wife and young daughter. Did you want to see photos? He sent some this morning.'

She scoffed. 'Yea, no bloody thanks.' Blanching when she remembered Zara. 'We will talk about this later,' she said, heading up the stairs. Muttering under her breath: 'And  _I'm_ the one with a shambles of a personal life.'

'I'm glad you've made peace with your truth,' Finn called after her. 'That's the first step to a better and greater life.'

Kiki rolled her eyes at him in the gaps between the stairs, saying, 'Ayo, why don't I hear splashing?' before disappearing from view.

Finn let his smile and shoulders slip, and took a moment, just a small one, to marvel at his selfishness.

That was all the lie of the comforter was, really: pretending they didn't need the shoulder support just as much.

 

* * *

 

Andrew Campbell: I thought  _Summertime_  was lovely--except for The Line, which I thought was 15 minutes too long. 3 out of 4 stars.

Lise Rankin: As someone not particularly fond of classical music, I found this album overall to be rather inoffensive. Inoffensiveness is not generally what I look for in a record, but generically this is not really my wheelhouse at all. 2 out of 4 stars.

Daryn Milne: Good to read to. 4 out of 4 stars.

Myung Hee Nam: _Summertime_ is a perfectly serviceable album. Certainly not Dafinone's best work, but far from his worst. Most of the tracks are quite pleasant to listen to -- except for Zara, which is horrifically pat -- but only one of them is actually interesting: The Line. What a tense, electrifying piece! Very intriguing progression and variation. Wherever this line is, I'm excited to see more of Dafinone trying to get over it. 2.5 out of 4 stars.

Kerry Shaw: No tension whatsoever to be had in this album. Really dreadful stuff. 1 out of 4 stars.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The first scene takes place right before Finn is set to give a public performance for the first time in years.  
> \- The last stanza in A Weekend In Love is inspired by the same in W.H. Auden's 'As I Walked Out One Evening': It was late, late in the evening,/The lovers they were gone;/The clocks had ceased their chiming,/And the deep river ran on.  
> \- The song Ayo is supposed to be practising is Beethoven's [Piano Sonata No. 8 In C Minor ("Pathétique"), Op. 13: II. Adagio Cantabile](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2nG1bt7IBM/).  
> \- 4'33" is an experimental piece by John Cage which makes deliberate use of silence.  
> \- Zara and Ayo are Kiki's children, and so are technically Finn's first cousins once removed, not his nieces.  
> \- The song Zara (which is not real) makes use of the [Frère Jacques lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVgeAE8f5lM).  
> \- With the exception of Little Ayo and The Line, which are also not real songs, all nonvocal pieces are linked in the text.  
> \- The song Ayo requests is Deep River: American Negro Melody, an arrangement of the popular black American spiritual Deep River, by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a British composer. As with many black composers, SCT was prodigious in life, penniless in death, and more or less ignored at present.  
> \- 'What, no Flaxen Hair?' is in reference to Debussy's Le Fille au Cheveux de Lin (The Girl with the Flaxen Hair). Douce Reverie op. 39 no. 21 is by the #goat Tchaikovsky, Trois études de concert no. 3: Un Sospiro is by Liszt, and One Summer's Day is by Fujisawa Mamoru (Joe Hisaishi).  
> \- Venus de Milo is a song off of Prince & The Revolution's 1986 album _Parade_. The cover linked briefly features the Purple Rain intro but is otherwise fairly similar to the album version.  
>  \- The final song Finn plays and Kiki sings along to is Lost In The Stars, written by Kurt Weill for the musical of the same name. The [Abbey Lincoln version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wwV01ddvLto) Kiki attempts to sing features some slight lyric deviation.  
> \- The 'screen and comm are both fake future technologies. Think of the 'screen as a mind-numbingly interactive television experience, and the comm like a touchscreen transposed onto the air around you. Neither are particularly conceptually unique, so I can't really lay claim to either.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana and Finn didn't really get along at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious trigger warning for this chapter. Please review tags above. More details in chapter endnote!

 

THE VHS GUYS  
On-comm Since 2020  
" _We Repair_ ... _Because We Care_ "  
Specialty VHS Video Restoration and Transcription Service

Enclosed:  
One (1) Video Tape ("ANIV 29") - Restored of Dust and Water  
One (1) Transcription

I, ah...I was thinking the other day...about all the names I have...for this man right here. There's the usual ones: Poe...Eddie...C'mere, you. Ha ha.

So, there are the usual names - the names everybody calls him. Then there are the names I'm lucky enough to have as mine and mine alone: Husband. Confidant. Mi cielo, mi alma...padre de mi hija...y amor de mi vida. Poe, I have known you all of my life...and I will love you for as long as I live.

But growing up I _never_ would've thought that I would fall in love with this guy. Noo waay, no how, nevernevernever. Ha...I, uh, I remember...way back in eighth grade, my best friend, Cecilia Perez - by the way, heyyy, Cece!, how are you?, so glad you could make it! Hehe. And the cameras converge. Yikes. Sorry, Ceese. So. Back in eighth grade. My very loving and forgiving friend Cecilia... well, she cornered me after school one day and said, Why didn't you tell me about Poe!

Now, Cece and I were like _this_. I never told Poe anything that I didn't turn around and immediately tell Cece. Not then, at least. So I had nooo idea what she was talking about. And I said, Theethee, calm dhown, what are you thawhking about? Some of you may remember my...dental accessories from that time period. Well, anyway - I said, Theethee, what are you thawhking about? CeCe goes, You and Poe! Why didn't you tell me the two of you were dating!

Do you remember that? Hahaha, I laughed for _days_. I said, TheeThee, that ith lit-e-rally never going to happen. Ever!

And now...more than twenty years later - well, it's possible I might've been a little wrong...Ha ha. Just a li'l. And I have never been more grateful to be wrong. Actually, as many of you may know, I'm generally never grateful to be wrong. At all. Ha ha.

But I am very grateful to have been wrong about you, Poe. Because Poe...you are my partner, and you are my friend. You are my muse, my rock, my miracle, my hope...and most importantly... you are here with me today.

I know...I know a three year anniversary may not seem like a long time to most of you but...but to me...it was important to mark this day...because...because three months ago, I didn't even think I would be here. I thought--when I got the news, I was so _sure_ that--oh no, don't cry, mija, Mommy's fine. Mommy's fine. Come here, baby, it's ok. There we go, we're fine. We're fine.

 

* * *

 

In this old house, I'm not alone  
In a bedroom, a telephone  
You made the call and I just stood by  
I stripped the sheets and emptied out the sky

 

* * *

 

You have [ONE] voicenote. To listen to this message, press or say--

 _Beep_.

Please, Finn. Please come.

 

* * *

 

The garden was overgrown, Finn could tell even from the street. After his second knock the backdoor slid open. Sally, surly and unkempt and god, so big now!, took one long look at him, and let him in. 'What took you?'

'Customs,' Finn said, more terse than he would've liked. More kindly he asked: 'Where's your father?' Sally shrugged, eyes on the pile of dishes in the sink.

Upstairs, the baby struck up a long miserable chord. Safia. Sally continued glaring at the dishes and quietly, angrily, hopelessly, began to cry.

Well - Finn wiped her face and then his own too, took her hand when she reached out, and then went upstairs to assess the damage.

The nursery was so dim he could not at first make anything out. And then his eyes caught up and he saw Poe, in a fine dark suit, hunched so far over the baby in his arms it looked like he might fall.

Finn had no idea what to say.

Poe at last straightened and spoke: 'You missed the service.' Safia hiccoughed, quieted down some when Poe shifted her in his arms. 'Saliha played instead.'

'I'm sure it was lovely,' Finn said, very carefully.

Poe nodded. 'It was,' he said. 'When's your flight back?' He still had not turned around fully to look at them.

Sally's hand tightened in Finn's. 'I took some time off,' he said. He'd actually quit months ago; never got around to telling Poe. 'Are you...are you hungry?'

'Oh...not very.' Poe smiled faintly at Safia, and kissed her. 'How 'bout you, mija?' This, to Sally. 'You hungry?'

'No, Daddy,' said Sally, stepping out from Finn's side. 'I feel a little sleepy, that's all.'

'Sleepy, huh? Well, let me just get Saf back down, and then I'll--'

But Sally shook her head. 'It's oh-kay, Daddy, I know how to take a nap.' She looked up at Finn and nodded at him, let go of his hand, then disappeared down the hallway.

In the silence Finn did not notice how close he had drifted until Safia yawned at him from over Poe's shoulder, and stared at him with her eyes slitted and half-open.

'Hello,' murmured Finn. She was little; she had Ana's hair. He glanced up at Poe - at his swollen eyes, his loose jaw, his slumped shoulders. 'Not much for conversation, is she?'

Poe laughed without making a single noise. Kept rocking Safia slow, swaying a little in place. 'She's--she's usually very talkative, actually. In her own way.' He shook his head. 'It's a confusing time for her. She keeps--she has this cry, you know, this one _cry_ , and whenever Ana hears it, she always says, just give her to me, and I always say--I never believe her, I just say, no, it's fine, let me do it, because I could always make Sal laugh...But no, totally different with Saf. I try to change her - she's fine...try to feed her - she's not hungry...try to sing to her - she don't care!' He smiled a little, shaking his head. 'And Ana, she's hilarious, she's just watching, the whole time saying, just give her to me, just give her to me, and finally, I just say, Fine!, I already tried everything, it's not going to work, and Ana just laughs and takes her, and--' He laughed, wetly. '--like magic! Saf just smiles all over. Like she just _learned_ to smile, she smiles so hard.' He was shaking all over, it looked like. 'Ah, please, Finn, take her please, just for a minute, I have to sit down.'

And then - there she was, in his arms. The reverse of Sal, somehow: smaller than in the pictures. She opened her eyes and kept them open, wide and wary, when she found herself held by a stranger, with her father nowhere in sight.

'Hello there,' he said, nervously. Safia paused, screwed her mouth up, and quite clearly readied herself for a terrific cry. In plain desperation Finn pulled the Uncle Pufferfish face - which pretty much always made Zara howl with laughter, and was at least worth a try.

Safia did not laugh - perhaps she had a more subtle sense of humour - but she paused and did not cry. By that time Poe, then seated in the rocking chair, had caught his breath and was ready to take her back.

'There we go,' Poe said, with a closed sigh, as Safia squirmed into his arms, 'there we go, it's alright, mija. It's alright.' He patted her back and shut his eyes. Finn stood there and watched them, profoundly relieved.

And then...all at once...all at once, he could not stand to look at them any longer. 'I'm gonna try and rummage up--a sandwich or something. That ok?' he said.

Poe hummed in response, rocking slow back and forth, eyes still closed. 'You remember where everything is?'

'I'm sure it'll come to me,' Finn said, forcing a laugh. 'I'll be back in a minute.' Instead he paused and caught his breath on the other side of the door.

It had been so _long_ : decades in fact. He had not heard his mother's voice since he was a small boy; he did not remember the feel of his father's arms around him; photos of his sisters looked different from how he remembered them. Small. Blurry.

He hated it, this jealousy - this resentment. To be adored so helplessly, to feel safe...he had not felt that for a very long time.

God spoke.

Finn rolled his eyes; shook the worst of it off. Enough of that, anyway. He took a deep stabilising breath, searched his feelings and possibly his appetite; and he decided that he would, actually, quite happily eat a sandwich.

 

* * *

 

The fridge held...quite a lot of food.

Macaroni covered in blankets of cheese, red pasta and peas, breadsticks, sweet bread, (lots of bread), platanos, maduros, tostones, couscous, a meat dish he didn't recognise, linguine in sauce, a plate of sandwiches, tuna salad, something that could've been sardines, potato salad, something that was probably chicken, heaps of pickled stuff, rice and peas, rice and beans, rice and olives, rice and raisins, something involving lemons, meat meat meat, half of a sheet cake...and more meat.

'I want pizza,' said Sally, standing in the kitchenway.

Finn, who had just spent eight minutes emptying the fridge, gestured at the table. 'There's a lot of food here already.' He paused. 'I thought you were sleepy?'

Sally did not answer, tip-toeing closer to the table. She made a furrowed face at all the cling film. 'I...want pizza.'

With a sigh, Finn began to pack everything back into the fridge. Sally waited a minute, then crept closer so she could hand him the smaller dishes. They made quick work of it: within five minutes the only thing still on the table was the sheet cake.

'Don't kids have to eat vegetables?' said Finn, realising only after he'd licked the plastic knife that he was probably setting a bad example.

'Shouldn't _you_ be eating vegetables? You're old,' Sally countered, taking his plate of cake away and setting to. 'Mommy says when you're old, your body pretty much just falls apart.' And then her face went sullen and sad.

'Ah...you wanted pizza, you said?' Finn said. Quickly, he started rummaging through the little table basket of take away menus. Asian Fusion Paradise Garden, no, Effie's SoulFood Extravaganza, no-- ahh, there was one - Mama Lucia's. Red circle around the cheese and onion pie; in faintly familiar cursive: SAL'S FAVE!!

Finn paused for a moment, then asked, 'Onions are a vegetable...aren't they?'

'Probably,' Sally agreed.

'I thought we were making sandwiches,' said Poe, bemused, wandering into the kitchen some half-hours later. He'd changed out of his suit, his hair was wet and his eyes still red.

Finn reached for a smile but it would not come; his eyes in fact started to prickle with tears. Poe paused, looked at him, then looked away.

'I gotta eat _veggies_ , Dad. Don't you want me to grow big and tall?' Sally said, her mouth full of cheese.

'Sal, if you grow much more, you'll be taller than me,' said Poe. 'Heck, soon you'll be taller than Finn.'

Both Damerons fixed a laser-like gaze at Finn, who hunched his shoulders. 'I've actually lost a few inches,' he said, humbly. 'All that bending over a piano, you know.'

'Oh, another reason to give it up!' Sally declared.

'Sal,' said Poe, in a warning tone, taking Finn's cup of water to drink. 'Not now.'

'O-k,' said Sally, shrugging, glib. 'I guess I'll just wait for _your_ funeral, then.' Then she blanched.

Poe took a long swallow of water, sighed - then he said something in Spanish.

'--But I'm still eating,' said Sally, in a very small voice.

'I'll heat it up for you later,' said Poe, not looking at her. 'Your room, Sal. Please.'

Sally looked at Finn, her face reddening. Finn stared uncomfortably back, ducked his head only after she ran up the stairs.

Poe bowed his head; Finn took his hand, and watched him weep.

 

* * *

 

How is the view?  
Can you feel it when we miss you?  
The wind blew the hat from my head -  
Was it you? Was it you?

 

* * *

 

The night before the wedding -- the morning of the wedding, was it? -- Ana snuck into his room. It was a time Finn could not return to in his mind for a long, long time.

He had felt weird and off-balance all night. He didn't recognise Poe with his cousins and coworkers and friends: he was _loud,_ careless and a little cruel. He'd licked a shot straight off Finn's stomach and then laughed in his face. It was a strange night. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything.

So Finn feigned a migraine. Poe's married cousin Diye - older guy, very sweet - ended up driving him back to the hotel. He offered to give Finn a massage, ended up fucking him facedown on the floor.

Does that feel good?, he asked. And he began to tear up and lose his nerve.

'God,' said Finn, drooling into the carpet, 'don't _stop_.'

Diye evidently had a lot of guilt to work through. Finn hardly registered his leaving hours and hours later; he remembered going to sleep alone, and waking up to Ana in his room.

They stared at each other. Finn could tell at a glance that Ana was still a little drunk. He smiled sheepishly, since he was too - and suddenly the strained tension that had been between them all weekend dissolved, and they had pressed their foreheads together, laughing. Somewhere else in the hotel someone was singing Stayin' Alive.

'Oh Finn,' said Ana, still holding him, 'please. Please promise me.'

'Anything,' he said. By now he recognised the feeling in his chest for what it was, and could do nothing but wipe at the tears on Ana's face.

'Promise me,' she said, 'that you will let him go.'

And there - it was said. No matter how close they had become they had never spoken of Ana's residual wariness about him, how she clearly thought Poe loved him in a different way than he did. How Finn had wasted years and years hoping he did, too.

'He's already yours,' Finn admitted, holding her close. Ana's mother and a hotel attendant found them like that later in the morning, tangled up and asleep. Even until her death, Fatima never quite fully believed that Finn was gay.

And even until her death, it seemed, Ana never fully trusted Poe.

 

* * *

 

Hey, love. Sorry about this. I hope you can forgive me. I understand if you can't. I know I said I'd keep fighting. But I'm tired, hon. Just tired. You know what that's like. I'm sorry I didn't give you and the girls a chance to say goodbye. You show them this when they're older, understand? I want them to know. They deserve to know.

I just. I couldn't keep doing it, Poe. And I felt different this time around, too. I dunno. It's hard to explain. I knew the treatment wouldn't work. And I was tired of feeling scared. I was tired of waiting to die. But more than that, I couldn't-- I couldn't watch you and Sal go through it all over again. I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't cry. I know that's not fair.

Hey, Poe? Baby? You don't have to forgive me. I know this will hurt you. And I promised to never hurt you, didn't I? I didn't mean to lie. I never wanted to lie. So you can hate me for as long as you need to. But you have to let me go. Ok? Those girls need someone to look after them. So you get to grieve as long as it takes to watch this. And then you have to get up and keep going. Ok?

I love you, Poe. Now and forever. Don't be afraid. [  **< < **] I love you, Poe. Now and forever. Don't be afraid. [  **< < **] I love you, Poe. [  **< < **] I love you-- [  **< < **] I love you--[ **||** ]

[  **< < <<  **]

Hey, love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Further information on new tags: A terminally ill character commits suicide.
> 
> Heavy on clunky formatting but light on music this time around! Songs quoted are [Grizzly Bear's All We Ask](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TeImOrp2bFI) and [Jamila Woods's Lately](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGfHLyyJVzg).
> 
> *Also, I should've mentioned this before, but Poe's full name in this should technically be Edgardo Alan Dameron Bey. Saliha and Safia's surname is Dameron Marroquin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past, the future - the end.

 

 

At the airport, Finn kissed Arjan goodbye. He straightened his crooked-knit scarf, his sleek black coat, asked him to text when he landed, and promised they would talk, really talk, after Break.

It was not until later that he realised he was lying.

Boris - the man who had driven them both to the airport and was now driving Finn back to campus alone - pushed a banana on him on their way back.

'Potassium,' said Boris, eyes crinkling in the rearview mirror. 'Good for energy. Good for breaking heart.'

Finn smiled at him, because he was being kind. Ate the banana piece-by-piece in slow silence, turning his face into the wind. (Arjan had left the window down. 'Cold keeps me up,' he insisted. He'd been asleep on Finn's shoulder before they even reached the highway.)

Ginastera on the radio. The tendril of a song he felt teasing his ears. Distanza? No, that wasn't right. He could not remember. Well, it had been years. And tonight his mind would not move.

Finn finished the banana without knowing it, without tasting it. He curled the peel into a crumpling napkin, dropped it in the plastic bag Boris offered, and he sank back into his seat. Stared up at the sunroof. At the sky, lightless endless and cold, hanging above them all. The passing lights dragging against his gaze.

He gave Boris all the money in his wallet when he stopped in front of his building. When Boris tried to protest, he just left the car without responding. He did not do it to be kind. It was not that he was a kind person. It was more that he was not any kind of person, really.

He walked up the stairs to his apartment with weights tied to his feet, his arms, his throat. How tired he was. How heavy his shell.

Will it finally end? he asked God. If I do this, will I finally stop feeling this way?

But God just took his words, and gave him nothing back.

Finn blinked back hard against the tears in his eyes. He crossed the final step, then came up on the landing going into the hallway. And he stopped. For Poe was there, standing in front of his door.

All the air came back to Finn's lungs - and his heart started to pound.

Poe turned back at the sound of him. He didn't change his expression as Finn approached.

'I knocked a couple times,' Poe murmured. 'I figured you weren't home. Really, I just wanted to apologise. Didn't mean to make your man uncomfortable. Don't want to make you--'

and he stopped, for Finn had fallen against him, trembling.

'Finn?' he asked softly. The sweat of him, the deep salt of his skin against Finn's mouth was almost too much to bear.

'Please,' Finn whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. Breathing him in. 'Please take me.'

Poe pressed his mouth against Finn's forehead. The easiest thing in the world. The only thing in the world right now. 'Ok. ok,' said Poe quietly. 'Where do you want me to take you?'

'Your place?' said Finn, gripping him tight; like he would never let him go. 'Don't let me be alone. Please.'

'Never,' Poe promised. He kissed him so hard it almost hurt. 'Never.'

 

* * *

 

8hours

 _To the man next door_.

Just take me back  
to that one-bed room  
The day I first saw you  
The night you let me in

You were lone and lovely  
I was sad and ugly  
Oh I know I made you go  
I know, you told me so

Those hours you were mine  
Less'n a day of time  
8 hours I'm missin  
8 hours I'm thinkin  
bout you

Did I know desire  
before you let me see?  
You plucked me like a wire, yea  
You skimmed me like the sea

That bedroom's clear and empty  
That bed of mine is cold  
I'm sick and tired of waiting!  
I'm sick, I'm tired, I'm old

Knock on my window, babe  
please just knock right on my door  
I promise not to scare you  
Can't ya give 8 hours more?

8 hours I'm missin  
8 hours I'm thinkin  
I said, 8 hours I'm missin  
8 hours I'm thinkin  
dreamin, prayin,  
lovin you

 

* * *

 

Chennedy L'hata: From Orion to Old York, it's Small Tables with Chennedy L'hata, the programme where we touch on far-reaching issues...of middling significance. This week's topic: Ryo Igata's controversial new book _The Line: The Long-Hidden Romance of Sir Gideon Dafinone CBE and Edgardo Alan Dameron Bey_ , which claims that Terran musicians Gideon Dafinone and Eddie Dameron led a secret affair for decades.

Our question this week: is there any truth to Igata's claims?

O'sheila Horowitz-Washington (official Dafinone biographer): To be frank - I think it's absolutely ridiculous. The two men were certainly very close but there's no evidence - other than Igata's fevered imagination, I'm sure! - that there was ever any kind of sexual relationship between them. Gideon was quite famously creatively effusive about his lovers. He wrote an entire series of nonets about his heterosexual encounters entitled The Women - some of the most vulnerable pieces in his catalogue. One of the first known pieces he wrote as an young adult, Symphonis, was dedicated to someone known only as A: _The man who taught me my body_. He was very publicly smitten with Dr Joseph Waysira, and courted him for months, writing piece after piece based on Waysira's poetry. [Violinist Tobias] Eichel in the nude was the cover of his twenty-sixth album, for God's sake! There was a huge uproar, GD was on a blacklist for years, none of his music was played _anywhere_. In fact we only have discovered secondary and tertiary issues of the music he released during that time. Regardless - this is not a man who shied away from who he was and who he was with!...Do I think there was an attraction between Gideon and his longtime friend, quite possibly a mutual one? It's not impossible - it's not! But do I think the two of them carried on a years-long affair, and never told anyone about it? Let's just say it would be very unlike Gideon - very unlike him.

Tobias Eichel: You know I always suspected that he was in love with Eddie. I've never seen two men, lovers or not, ever be so gentle with each other. Whether anything ever came of it, I could not tell you... because I do not know. But there was a definite sense I got, when I was with Finn [Gideon's nickname], that he was saving the truest parts of himself for somebody else. Maybe that somebody else was Eddie - who knows? Anyway they're all dead now - that whole generation. So let them die. Let them be dead.

Lelisa Joseph (daughter of Joseph Waysira): My father and Eddie apparently became quite good friends later in life - he saved all their correspondence. And one thing he always said was, I hope you're taking good care of him, E. And Eddie always said, I'm doing my best! They never identify who the 'him' is, of course. But every single time, they said this. We're talking about hundreds of letters and emails and messages - all at a time when serious longhand was well on its way out. I always found that incredibly interesting.

Davie Glasper (son of Zara Adebayo): Well, they lived together, didn't they? I don't remember much, but I remember that. They lived together until Paw Paw died. And Grandpa never dated or married afterward, that I can recall...I think they could've been together. It's possible.

Saliha El-Amin (daughter of Eddie Dameron): My father never loved anyone like he loved my mother. But then - he never loved anyone quite like he loved Uncle Finn, either.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Finn is hearing Ginastera's Estancia, Op. 8 in Boris' car. Specifically, he recognises II. Danza del trigo.  
> \- Me writing lyrics for Poe, who is supposed to have written lyrics for a living: nah this ain't it
> 
> I was waiting for a long time on the scene that would take us into the future, and it finally came to me today. This fic is a bit odd, even somewhat experimental for me, but I'm glad it's finally finished. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, if you can.


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